


Candlelight Whispers

by greyvvardenfell



Series: ZevWarden Week 2020 [4]
Category: Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: F/M, Feelings Realization
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-04
Updated: 2020-07-04
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:41:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25064827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greyvvardenfell/pseuds/greyvvardenfell
Summary: Zevran says aloud something he never thought he'd say.
Relationships: Zevran Arainai/Brosca
Series: ZevWarden Week 2020 [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1811920
Comments: 3
Kudos: 9
Collections: ZevWarden Week 2020





	Candlelight Whispers

**Author's Note:**

> Written for ZevWarden Week 2020: Day 4

Dawn’s rosy light crept into the tent with the softness of a lover’s touch. Slowly, as it brightened, Zevran roused himself from the deepest sleep he could remember enjoying since he stepped off the ship onto Fereldan ground. The satisfaction weighing down his limbs had, historically, only come from one source.

Evidence he had missed in the dark still clung to his belly; congealed, now, and itchy. But the mere memory of the release, of the activities that had fueled it, set his heart thrumming. She still slept, curled into herself beside him, pale skin on display to the canvas walls. Plush, with well-muscled arms and legs, small breasts perfectly suited to the size of his hands, a warm belly and round face… this had been so long coming, and worth every second.

Zevran rolled onto his side and shaped himself around Reydis’s back, dropping gentle kisses along the line of her shoulder. She barely stirred, but smiled in her sleep. Another kiss, then, for good measure, lingering on her tattooed cheek. It had been many, many years since sleeping in another’s presence came so easily, he thought. Perhaps waking rested was not the myth he believed it to be.

Sweat and sex had never smelled as soothing as this. These days on the road, far from inns or hostels in the middle of the wilderness, might not be nearly as uncomfortable if he had her. And he did, he realized. She had said as much last night. Three simple words, panted in the trough of a wave of passion. Nothing he hadn’t heard before from those he’d bedded, but laden with new meaning when cried in her voice.

Did she love him? Truly? If so, he was unworthy of it. Months of traveling with her had revealed a person determined to do good in a world equally determined to stay bad, the heart of a romantic encased in steel battered by hard living, humor and perseverance and, despite it all, love. Love nurtured from a seed planted in starving soil, unable to flourish until tended to properly.

Had he done that? Coaxed it to life? How cruel, to convince it that there was light to be found in all this darkness.

Zevran nuzzled into Reydis’s short, thick hair and sighed. Selfish of him, he thought, to tease the possibility of an untroubled future. The Crows had been quiet so far, but it couldn’t last. And now he had ensured that they would target her first. If the Talons allowed him to live, they would strip him of every last thing he had. Everything he… loved.

Words floated through his mind, a term he’d never used sincerely. He remembered hearing it murmured into the ears of eager customers as he bore decanters of wine to their tables at the whorehouse. He remembered teasing his contracts with it like a hunter baits a trap. He remembered almost saying it to Rinna, to Taliesen, before it caught in his throat, knowing that they would laugh at such sugary language.

“ _Mi amora_ ,” he breathed into the back of her neck, too quiet to wake her. He couldn’t have her hear him. Not yet. Just to tread this path was new enough.

But it tasted right. So terribly, desperately right, as though he’d been crawling through a desert and finally found water. The power of it scared him. What responsibility, to hold so fragile a thing so close, with hands so drenched in blood that they would never wash clean. What exquisite responsibility.

Was he to be the sun to her moon, the shield to her sword, the gold to her silver? Would he protect her from the wrath of the Crows as she had protected him? Would he shine his light through the encroaching darkness just to keep her growing strong?

“ _Mi amora_ ,” he repeated, and kissed her again.

He would be a fool if he said anything but yes.


End file.
